The Heat of War
by Angel of Praxia
Summary: Boley can survive in this land. Always has. But when he discovers what evil remains from his past, he is thrown back into the war he left behind. Will he strive, or die trying? Rated M for violence and potential sexual scenes.


The hot rays from the sun beat down on his back as he walked.

Dead grass and pale, cracked dirt for a long distance made for a boring walk.

It was only when you saw the town from a distance; it looked that much farther away.

One would assume that if you didn't have any water for the harsh heat, you would find yourself trading extra for a drink when you got there.

But Boley was smarter than that. He'd walked the road many times before; acutely aware of the dehydration that came with the trip.

He often thought back to his younger years. Mostly when he lived in Canada; when he was nine years old.

Quite some time ago.

As a child, he lived in snow. It was almost always cold; contrary to the current setting.

Funny how easily he could adapt. Maybe that's why he's survived all these years.

Maybe it was just luck.

He shoved the door to the shop open. The walls and ceiling were practically scrap metal; the owner clearly not caring for it. The people here only cared about one thing: Wealth.

The owner immediately turned towards the now open door as he walked in.

"Hmph. The usual?" The man assumed.

Boley simply nodded curtly.

The store owner simply reached underneath the counter he sat behind and retreived a few simple items: twenty 12 guage shotgun cartridges, two packs of cigarettes, and a small makeshift container with fluid inside. The small bottle was the size of his palm; if not slightly bigger.

He nodded at the storekeeper and laid out the appropriate amount of bolts to compensate the gain of ammunition, stress relievers, and fuel for the said stress relievers. He made his way out; fully confident that he gave to correct amount of money.

"Hey! You're short."

Boley simply shook his head and walked out. The clerk tried that trick one too many times.

Standing on what little was left of a porch; he withdrew a cigarette from it's package and flicked open his faintly rusted lighter. With a few strikes of the pinwheel against the flint; a flame ignited and spread to the tobacco hovering above it.

On the lighter, an engraving could be seen. It read:

 _Heroes never die... Men do. At the end of their roads._

He took a long draw from one of the few things he could enjoy in life.

Satisfaction. A small moment of peace. Peace, that was interrupted shortly after.

"Don't be casuin' no trouble, ya hear me?"

 _Of course._

Boley simply did nothing. They're just idiots without a purpose; so they started a little gang to scare people into giving them what they want.

 _"Hey!_ I asked you a question." The idiot growled.

He inwardly rolled his eyes; but decided to keep his thoughts mental rather than vocal. He simply nodded.

Walking away from the imbecile, Boley saw a new piece of paper on the bounty board. On the paper, terribly written text could be read.

 **'Wanted: Fuckin traitor! $100!"**

There wasn'ta picture below the text, but rather a detailed map with the location of the 'traitor.'

It was Northwest of the small town; in a mountainside cave, apparently. That much was evident by the word scrabbled next to a hole in the drawing.

Boley folded the paper and slid it into his pocket; ignoring the stares he received from the people nearby. They often wondered what his ideals were; why he did what he did. He usually came into town, geared up and took the first bounty he saw.

His antics were unknown; and to the townsfolk, that made him dangerous.

One might argue that he was.

The others would agree; but they're dead. Too many made the mistake of provoking the guff survivalist; and found themselves unable to ever make another mistake again.

The trek to the mountain wasn't a journey, but still boasted a long walk. It would have been unwise to forget standard supplies; such as food and water.

He wasn't one to forget. It'd get you killed in a place like this. Preperations complete; he began the trek to his destination.

A lot of people often confused the wartorn lands of Numbani's outskirts to be a wasteland; much like Australia.

A better way to describe it would be to call it a Dead Zone.

The problem with Numbani's laws was that outsiders had trouble getting into the Utopia. It wasn't corrupt or bad in any way, just inaccessible.

It wasn't irradiated or mutated, or anything like that. It was just scarred by war. Desolate and barren; just like it was before. It used to simply be a desert; but now, it's torn.

If you were dig through the sand here and there, you could even find bullets that missed their intended targets. Some may have passed through; but whatever blood remained had long since chipped away.

While Boley reminisced on his past; he found that he'd grown closer to his destination than ever before. Within 30 minutes of distracting himself, he met the path at the foor of the steep hill.

His past was one of complexity; certainly. It was something only he knew about.

As he followed the path upwards, he drew his shotgun. Pulling the lever, the barrel fell downwards; allowing access to the empty chambers.

 _One._

 _Two._

 _Three._

He snapped the barrel upwards and cocked the lever; priming the firing pins for the upcoming combat. He reached into his pocket for another cigarette.

 _Flick._

 _Strike._

 _Burn._

 _Boom._

An explosion? He stopped dead in his tracks to listen more closely.

 _Gunshots._

Boley picked up the pace as he climbed the path. Only a short minute later did he find himself at the top.

In front of the cave entrance, there were several clack military vehicles. Definitely not someone from here.

Someone he couldn't stand the existence of.

The death grip he had on his shotgun threatened to crack the wooden handle.

Several dead bodies littered the outside; presumably the 'traitors' he intended to wip out.

Several items of interest were around, though. Things Boley could use. As a survivalist in a harsh land; improvisation was a key skill to learn. Don't leave behind what you can use.

 _Grenade; handmade._

 _Bolt rifle; two mags. .308._

 _Liquor bottle; cloth in top._

A mental note of his 'belongings' was kept close; and he reached to the hip holster for his sidearm.

A good find when he took a job with some Junkers from Australia. Weird guys, but they got the job done.

Not many people could pride over that.

The design was supposedly reminiscent of an old pistol... Something like 'Broomhandle?' He couldn't remember. All he knew was that it used a special pulse ammunition; and he only had two magazines of it. Couldn't find it anywhere else so far; so he made sure not to use it unless he _really_ needed to.

Looks like today might be that day.

Boley slowly approached the cave entrance; wary of any activity. So far, nothing. THey were deeper inside. He stuck to the shadows as he observed his surroundings.

 _One way. No branches._

Moving forwards; it wasn't long until he saw someone standing in the cave.

 _One. Facing away. Idiot. Talon's still sloppy; it seems._

He drew the knife from his shoulder holster and prepared a throw.

He cocked his arm back.

 _Thunk._

The knife sunk into the guard's head and he fell to the ground; no screams or yelps.

 _Still got it._

Boley yanked the knife from his head and wiped it on the corpse's clothes. He had no remorse for Talon agents. They knew damn well what they were doing was unjustified.

They wanted chaos among the world; and sought to bring everyone to war.

But why?

Boley gritted his teeth and pushed his questions aside. He continued forwards into the cave; the only light coming from the occasional bulb dangling from the roof.

It wasn't long until he found the end of the cave. It was essentially a big room. The agents had already wiped out the bandits and set up several communication devices.

They were all grouped up around a table. Nothing on there; from what he could see.

He reached towards the grenade he'd retrieved earlier.

His left index finger snaked through the pin.

 _Pull._

 _Wait._

 _Roll._

The canister rolled towards the group; completley unaware of the danger about to take them.

In the short amount of time the explosive rolled towards them; Boley shouldered his shotgun and readied his rifle. _Mid range._

A loud bang not entirely unlike a strike of lightning bounced off the cave's walls. It was deafening.

The group was hurled away from their table; caught with their pants all the way down.

 _Four._

 _Confirm them._

He moved towards the scorched bodies.

 _Knife._

He unholstered his knife and used the momentum to slash at the person behind him; but not fast enough; and caught a bullet to the chest.

The threat was eliminated, but he now had anoher pressing matter.

He clutched at his chest and fell to the ground. The pain was unbearable.

Boley knew damn well that if this wasn't treated immediately, it was game over.

He weighed his options.

Talon agents don't carry meds.

He didn't have any. Unwise.

In his shortsightedness, he let his guard down and took the fall.

Only one thing he could do now.

He slowly crawled to the communications array set up in the cave.

 _Looks like my time training is finally payin' off._

He turned dials and pressed buttons for a few seconds before he spinally spoke into the mic; clearly, but shakily.

"Time to repay your debt, hon." He sent the message with coordinates to his current location.

 _Thanks, Talon. Still fuckin' hate you, though._

Boley's world turned dark; and all he could do was pray that she would come soon.

 **A/N: Hey everyone! I've got a few things to address!**

 **Firstly, sorry this was so short. I'm just trying to get the basic stuff laid out; but have no fear! The next chapter is in the works, so expect it** _ **very**_ **soon!**

 **Secondly, I'm well aware that I've been absent from FFnet for a fair time. Life has gotten quite hectic, but I'm finally ready to really get back into writing; and I'm happy to be back.**

 **I can't forget the fact that my friend Matt is the one who's been feeding me ideas for his story (a.k.a** _ **this one!**_ **) and helping me through these life issues. I've met a few select amazing people since I've began, and I don't regret it one bit.**

 **I strongly encourage everyone to join my Discord server; it's the pinnacle of my updates! Plus, it's my most used social thing. On top of that, the small community I have there is amazing and needs some growth; so feel free to join! We'd love to have you! 3**

 **Again, my deepest apologies for being gone for so long; I know it was a random vanish and I'll try my best to keep it from happening again. Life is wild!**

 **That's it; thanks for reading, I truly appreciate it! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing; because it was** _ **really**_ **fun for some reason.**

 **Cheers!**


End file.
